I have so much on my mind. There is the potential for so much to be written.

I should be using these empty days to be productive, but I can’t get myself to do anything.

This is a horrible feeling.

“Resistance knows that the more psychic energy we expend dredging and re-dredging the tired, boring injustices of our personal lives, the less juice we have to do our work.”

“The condition becomes a work of art in itself, a shadow version of the real creative act the victim is avoiding by expending so much care cultivating his condition.”

“Remember, the part of us that we imagine need healing is not the part we create from; that part is much deeper and stronger. The part we create from can’t be touched by anything our parents did, or society did. That part is unsullied, uncorrupted; soundproof, waterproof, and bulletproof. In fact, the more troubles we’ve got, the better and richer that part becomes.”

“Never forget: This very moment, we can change our lives. There never was a moment, and never will be, when we are without the power to alter our destiny. This second, we can turn the tables on Resistance. This second, we can sit down and do our work.

Those are segments (not chronological) of Steven Pressfield’s book The War of Art. Read it.

Time is a matter of fact/ And it’s gone and it’ll never come back/ And mine is wasted all the time/ Tears, stupid tears, bring me down/ Tie my brain into a knot/ These tears, stupid tears, bring me down

-Daniel Johnston

"Look, I'm on MTV, David." (Probably the most supremely happy moment I've ever seen. Happiness to the point of being pretty heartbreaking... Watch the documentary.)

I woke up this morning after a night full of strange and vivid dreams. My mother always told me how much she hated hearing about my dreams, so I’ll keep them to myself, but let me tell you they were like watching quirky short films that I only wish I could recreate when I’m awake. They were emotional and funny and scary and real; the kind that you are sort of sad to wake up from and you are reminded of all day.

Dreams are, by definition, creations of your own subconscious. It’s all you. All your creativity. So maybe if I’m feeling totally unmotivated and untalented, I should just crawl into bed and be reminded that in the back of my mind, underneath all of the neuroses and issues and walls, I have a thriving and original imagination that I could potentially tap.